


The Abyss and Wonderful Things

by GentleGiraffe



Category: My Life My Tapes - Fandom, Twin Peaks
Genre: Chess, F/M, M/M, Multi, knee touches and shoulder massages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleGiraffe/pseuds/GentleGiraffe
Summary: Windom invites Dale over for chess and dinner following Dale's first kill in the FBI. Dale seeks comfort, praise, and reassurance that Windom is so readily able to provide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely inspired by my recent reading of The Autobiography of FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper: My Life, My Tapes in which Dale reports that Windom invited him over after he first discharged his weapon in the field. Before Windom became who is in the show, he proved to be a mentor and confidante for Dale that Dale cared deeply for. I took this a bit further...I see Windom as possessive and more than excited to have a young protegee at his fingertips. Dale, eager for praise in his new career, takes to this quickly.

Windom excitedly ushered Dale into the back room for a game of chess right when Dale arrived. The first game was over in seven moves, with Windom coming out on top. This wasn’t Dale’s first time playing chess, but he clearly had much to learn. Rather than be annoyed at Windom’s clear display of arrogance and superiority, Dale was happy to start another game, this time asking for advice.

And Windom taught and Dale listened. Eager to be partnered with someone who had so much knowledge to give. He was curious by nature; Earle knew this and wanted to train Dale up. To reinforce his questions and insights. Windom loved having a pupil, both at work and in the game, and the wide-eyed, tracking look Dale would give him during a lesson energized him like no other.

“Rook to E6” Dale announced, lifting his rook between two slight fingers and moving it to hover over a space occupied by one of Windom’s pawns. Dale lifted the pawn in his same hand, maneuvering the rook down as he did so. He was about to pull away when suddenly Windom’s hand was on top of his own. 

“Uh uh uh,” Windom chided him, the warmth of his hand radiating into Dale’s skin. “You must think ahead, young Dale. In a move or two, your king will be completely exposed! The game will be over so soon after that. Tragically short, no fun at all for you.”

“Here.” Windom guided Dale’s hand back down, and Dale released the pawn. “Try again.” 

Windom put his hands on his chin and smiled toothily, carefully watching as Dale swallowed his pride, returned the rook to its original spot, and simply inched a pawn forward instead. His cheeks were warm from being chastised, and a tingling in his body spread as Windom watched his amendment. 

“Much better. Simple, safe, but it will promote longevity.” Earle moved forward in his seat, and his knee brushed up against Dale’s. “There’s not always a need to sprint in chess. Take time to figure out what you're doing. What you hope to accomplish.” 

Dale exhaled and tried not to focus all his attention on the pressure Windom was inducing against his knee. He was surprised at how much he craved this feedback, this approval. He really looked up to Earle. The man who solidified his interest in the FBI in the first place. The man he would work hard to become equals with. 

The game continued in silence. Once Windom got into the swing of things he stayed focused on the board. Though he was always able to partition his attention enough to alternatively watch the competitive glint in Dale’s eyes and the way his slender hands manipulated the pieces. Dale fidgeted with a pawn of Windom’s he had eventually captured to Windom’s liking, and Windom felt his gaze drawn time and again, watching Dale turn it absentmindedly. 

Dale observed the board, calculating his next move, and Windom’s move after that, proving that he had the foresight to be a worthy opponent after all. Minutes passed, moves were completed, and Dale relaxed his leg against Windom’s. He hadn’t been tensing it consciously, but it felt better to noticeably unclench the muscles and allow more weight to surrender to the space Windom was inhabiting. 

Chess was an intimate game. Windom had said so himself. Learning the way a person thinks, learning to predict how they will act in a certain situation, why that’s how you truly get to know someone. Dale was willing to show his new partner his mind. Was eager to know each other well enough to communicate in the field without words. He was used to working alone, but the idea of connecting with someone wholly, as this opportunity bid him, was exhilarating. 

Dale lost. He had expected to lose, so he didn’t mind so much. He found himself simply hoping the game had continued on well enough for Windom’s liking. Windom hadn’t moved his legs away, but he also hadn’t moved any closer. An impasse, devoid of new information. Alas.

“Well played.”

Dale raised an eyebrow. Unused to this condition-less praise.

“For now,” Windom followed up and Dale blinked in agreement, acceptance. 

Windom stood and Dale’s leg felt cold against the air. He remained seated, eyes transfixed, as Windom walked to the bar in the back of the room. Two glasses of whiskey were poured and carried to the armchairs by the fireplace. Dale stood obediently and took the seat across Windom, dutifully receiving the glass that was handed to him.

Windom took a dramatic sip, drawn out, making a show of exhaling as he swallowed, before he spoke. Dale was usually talkative, happy to prove himself and experience the world interactively, but he was comfortable deferring to Windom when they were alone. 

“Now Dale,” Windom began, his voice low and thick. “As alluring as chess is, we both know why you’re really here. You’ve had your first kill!” His voice escalated, almost imperceptibly. If Dale didn’t know any better he would have said his partner was excited.

Coop took a breath, allowing himself to shift gears into this conversation topic. “It’s awful, isn’t it? How quickly it can happen? My gun felt so much heavier after.” His voice was quiet, and felt far away from his body.

“Dale…Dale, Dale, Dale,” Windom drawled, as he placed his glass on the table next to him and walked over to his mentee. Dale leaned his head up to keep an eye on Earle’s face. “You were just doing your job, Dale. Doing what you had to.”

“I’ve seen men dead before and wondered about the evil in the world that allows that to happen….to think I’m the cause…” Dale trailed off, afraid and self-pitying. The FBI hadn’t prepared him for this at all. He re-met Earle’s eyes but was unable to read his facial expression. “Windom, I can still hear the shots ringing in my ears.” 

Dale felt weak, exposed, dirty. Chess had been a useful distraction but it was all coming back. He fixed his stare on the fire lapping around the wooden logs, reducing Windom’s nearby presence to a looming feeling rather than concrete knowledge.

Until, suddenly, Dale felt a weight on his shoulders. His mind caught up, realizing Windom must have taken a few steps closer still, and was now directly behind Dale, gently rubbing his upper back. Dale could feel tears behind his eyes he willed to keep at bay, the physical contact much more comforting than he could have anticipated. He focused on his breathing. Watched the fire. A particularly thin part of the log broke off, erupting in sparks. Windom continued rubbing soft circles into his back.

“You were doing your job Dale. Keeping yourself safe—keeping me safe—not to mention the hostages. You know we ordered the men to drop their guns. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t acted so quickly. So instinctively.” 

Dale tensed at the last word and Windom paused, his hands hovering above Dale’s shoulders.

“Windom, let me be frank here—I appreciate the platitudes but this isn’t an instinct I want. I entered the Bureau to save lives, not take them.” 

“Of course you did. We all did. But not everyone is capable of saving. Much better to lose one, to preserve many.” He rested his hands back on Dale’s shoulders, waiting for Dale to melt back into his touch. He liked how receptive Dale could be. He felt his hands rise and fall as Dale forced deep breaths through his system again. The tension remained.

“I fear this will never leave me.”

“And it might not.” Windom swapped his left hand out for his right on Dale’s shoulder, as he stepped around and rested himself down onto the arm of Dale’s chair. “Listen, when I first had to discharge my weapon it was a shock to me too. It’s an indescribably different feeling. Nothing can prepare you for it.”

Dale felt a heightened awareness of the closeness of the man next to him. But, there were too many thoughts to catalog at once. He decided not to focus on that too much. He turned his head slightly and peeked up to meet Windom’s face once again. “Has it changed you?”

Windom laughed, unexpectedly and out of place. “Caroline says it has. I don’t think she quite understands the intricacies of the experience. If anything, it’s made me a better agent. You’re well on your way, Coop.” 

Earle stood, and Dale’s eyes followed him up. “Speaking of which, dinner is probably just about ready. I’m very excited for you to meet Caroline. You’re going to love her.” Windom lent down and pressed a quick kiss to Dale’s forehead before patting his shoulder once and walking towards the doorway. 

Dazed, fatigued from their conversation, confused by the displays of affection, Dale stood slowly and followed.


	2. A Jump into the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dale further incorporates himself into the life of Windom and Caroline Earle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Squalloscope song "Open Water Reckless Fishes"

Looking back, Dale figured he should have seen the warning signs. Windom’s smooth-talking, hypnotic presence and the way he was able to manipulate people just so. But Dale never wanted to admit to himself that things were off-kilter, outside of the social norms and niceties that he had come to expect. He didn’t dare let his mind wander into the domain that would shed light on the possibility Windom wasn’t the moral upstanding civilian and bureau member he so wanted him to be. He accepted Windom’s eccentricities and simply felt elated that he was privy to them. Dale was drawn into the dance easier than he would have liked to admit, but his heart fluttered every time he spoke about a case in hushed whispers with Windom, or every time he was tenderly invited into the Earle household. He accepted this secret into his life, the secret of who Windom was outside of work, when he wasn’t angrily proving a point or stoically recounting the most recent case. Dale accepted this secret and held it close. He let it grow. He let it consume him. Loved it like a pet that was prone to biting, and took pleasure in the time he had with it. 

\----

“Windom, darling, he’s so young!” Caroline exclaimed, pointedly, biting around the softness that could have accompanied such a statement. “And the way he looks at you!” She nipped at Windom’s ear and he sighed as he raised the whiskey glass to his lips and took a sip. 

“I knew you would like him. Saw it in him the first time we met. It’s those eyes. He’s just so eager.” Windom twirled his hand around one of Caroline’s curls. He was surprised at how much Dale Cooper intrigued him. He was smart enough to be on his own, but dumb enough to look up to the first person that showed him any ounce of respect, any semblance of interest. 

He and Caroline had a good partnership. Even if he felt worlds away from people at times, Caroline could hold her own. She was just as busy, she allowed him the distance he needed, but was happy to be a springboard for his musings, and an accomplice in his little games. He thought it could be fun to work together. To box Cooper in and toy with him. Mentor him and bask in his misguided affection. 

\-----

“Why don’t you come over again tonight?” 

Dale looked up from the paperwork spread over his desk and met Windom’s eyes. Soft, pleading. He restrained himself from immediately accepting the offer, instead glancing back down at the work piled in front of him. “I really have to finish up the Brown report here. Gordon’s expecting it tomorrow afternoon and-“

He was cut off as Windom leaned across the desk and placed a finger against Dale’s open mouth. “Shh Dale,” he moved to sit at the edge of the desk, and Dale peered up at him, confused and captivated. “You’ve been working so hard. Listen, Caroline just finished up an important trial and I thought it right to celebrate. You, us, and a new bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. I’ll give you a half hour to finish up and then we’ll get going.”

Dale could have insisted he had too much to do. He could have questioned why he, of all people, would be invited to a celebration for Caroline. He could have listed off one hundred reasons why this might not have been a good idea, but they barely crossed his mind. Another night with his partner and his lovely wife. 

“Windom, I’d be delighted.”

\-----

They had driven in separate cars, which gave Dale some time to collect his thoughts and calm the excited palpitations in his chest. Try as he might, though, there was a thrill he couldn’t shake. Windom worked with him all day every day and still wanted to spend more time with him. Dale couldn’t wait to pick his brain—slowly of course, hedging his way in tactfully as to not appear too eager—and continue to become a better agent. He wondered if it was too early to ask his thoughts on mysticism and the Dalai Lama. 

And suddenly Windom was at his car door, gesturing outward as Dale stood and exited, his feet crunching on the gravel driveway. Windom hooked his arm around Dale’s and Dale adjusted his own, allowing them to comfortably walk together toward the lavish house. Dale didn’t understand the physical contact Windom initiated so freely, but he was happy to indulge it. He felt like a conspirator in child-like secret. He wasn’t quite sure what he was guarding, but it gave him such a rush to be part of these interactions. He hoped it would continue. 

Windom walked them through the door, releasing himself from Dale as he extended his arms up and announced their presence to Caroline. And Caroline was there in front of them mere seconds later, a blue dress framing her perfectly, a brilliant smile on her face. 

“Dale, how nice to see you again.” Caroline touched her face to his, one cheek and then the other. She was worldly and grounded. She smelled of lavender. 

“Hello Mrs. Earle,” Dale offered nervously, reverting to formalities. 

“Caroline, please.” She laughed, and Dale had to look away as he nodded.

“Caroline. Of course.” The name felt foreign in his mouth from lack of use, and he shifted his weight on his feet as he watched Caroline press a kiss to Windom’s mouth, Windom humming low and short in response. Self-consciousness washed over him and he wasn’t sure where to set his gaze. He waited until he felt Windom press a hand to his back, guiding him further into the house. 

\---

Windom and Caroline settled into a rhythm that fascinated Dale. As they worked around each other, finishing up dinner and setting the table, Dale realized that his presence did not matter. Not that he wasn’t important, just that the scene before him would unfold regardless of it he was part of it or not. 

He had offered help, of course, but they shooed him away. Insisting he was a guest, insisting they had it under control. He figured that, mostly, it would be too cumbersome to add a near-stranger into their carefully practiced routines. He was honored, in a reserved sort of way, that he was able to experience this natural state of being. He didn’t necessarily feel like an outsider, but, as Windom tickled Caroline as he passed by her and she laughed and smacked him gently, Dale knew he was witnessing something he hadn’t directly influenced. He wondered how often individuals were privy to this family life, and realized that he was probably among a rare handful. 

\---

“A toast, to good friends and successful trials.” Windom raised his glass and Caroline followed suit. Dale did as well, a half second delayed.

Making eye contact with Windom as they clinked glasses was intense, and making contact with Caroline was done clumsily and abashedly. Dale couldn’t quite place why he felt so exposed, so out of his element here. He felt, outrageously so, that he was in the company of high society. But they had done nothing to make him feel small. 

They ate in seemingly comfortable silence, but Dale grew to feel he was the one on trial. Sure, the Earles were entertaining him, but he would hate to think he was tedious company. He may have been imagining it, but the room felt poised, waiting for him to speak. 

His mind was ungainly as he worked to find a conversation topic. Or, more accurately, as he worked to find a topic other than the one that had immediately bounced into his head. At first examination it felt too serious, too intimate. And yet, he grew to realize, this was exactly the environment for that sort of thing. He swallowed his food and took a breath. “Caroline, what sort of evils have you encountered in your work?” 

And Dale listened with rapt attention as Caroline spun the tail of her most recent case, of a man who had killed his sister to earn full responsibilities of their parents’ estate. She spoke with a morbid curiosity, a reverence of sorts, respectful of the situation and proud of her work, though not without a wonderment directed towards the man. 

Dale focused on Caroline, his head turned towards her, but he could feel Windom’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. He felt Windom looking on proudly, with interest, and Dale felt warm and more at ease as he further solidified himself in this household.


End file.
